My Glass Balllerina
by El.Ave.Fenix
Summary: Sequel to No One Would Listen. Her death had haunted him, he looked for her in every note he played, in every face he saw, in every voice he heard. Her new life was filled with unanswered questions to which he alone held the answers. Their paths were bound to cross once more, there would only be one problem. He would recognize her instantly...she wouldnt even remember his name.
1. Lyla

**Lyla**

**A/N: This chappie could be called the prologue my dears, I know its short, but it explains what happened to Monica's body and the gypsy's reasons for taking it. Enjoy!**

The old gypsy stood over the wooden table where she had placed the body of the young woman. Her green eyes were locked intently on the other woman's face; time seemed to go by slowly as she waited in the dark for the other to wake.

"Esmeralda, are you sure about this?" one of her most trusted men, Javert, asked looking at the unmoving body before him. By the outlaw biker jacket that he held in his hand he could tell that if something went wrong they could have some serious problems on their hands.

"She will never see them again," Esmeralda reassured him, turning to look at Javert who was looking down at the bloodied piece of clothing on his hands. "There is nothing to fear."

"Yes, but what if she-" he started before the old woman cut him off with her hand.

Her golden bangles clinked and shone in the dim lighting provided by the candles around them as Javert's brow furrowed.

The woman on the table before them started to stir, both of them turned to look at her in anticipation.

Her brown eyes opened slowly and looked around in confusion, her bloodied hand rose to cover her face for a brief moment as she breathed unevenly.

Her vision was blurred and her head spun uncontrollably, she couldn't even lift her head without her whole body protesting in pain.

"W-Where am I?" her hoarse voice asked as Esmeralda maintained her distance and looked at her creation with gleaming eyes. Javert's own pair widened upon seeing the woman talk and move, he didn't think Esmeralda capable of having such powers until now.

"Paris, my dear, you're in Paris," Esmeralda told her as the woman shook her head and sat up with much difficulty. Her hand wrapped around the crimson silk sheet that had been placed over her. She held it to her chest noticing it was the only thing covering her body; she wondered where her clothes went.

The woman's confused looked returned as she felt her stomach and pulled back her hand to reveal even more blood staining her palm. Her eyes shot up to look at the old woman before her and the man that stood behind her in accusation.

"Who are you? W-why am I here?" she asked pulling the sheet around her naked body closer, she started to shiver when a cold breeze entered the small room in which they were in.

"Take that with you, do not let her see it, go and get Dante," Esmeralda snapped in a hushed whisper motioning to the jacket as Javert nodded and turned towards the door. He kept the leather jacket away from the woman's view before disappearing out into the night air.

"My dear, you need to calm down, I am only here to help," Esmeralda told her walking over to her form as she sat at the edge of the table, tears streaming down her pale face.

"Who are you?" she asked again looking around with apparent fear. Her head shook in denial as she tried to remember how she had gotten there, much to her horror she couldn't recall a thing. "Why can't I remember anything?" she asked once more as Esmeralda's smile returned. So her plan had worked, she had no memory of her past.

"There, there, my darling," she whispered brushing a strand of hair from the woman's face, "there is no need to upset yourself over this," the gypsy added brushing the tears away from the other woman's face.

"How did I even all of these stitches on me?" she asked motioning down towards the wound that Esmeralda had closed up before she had woken up. The old gypsy shook her head slightly and started to explain before she was interrupted with the sounds of heavy boots hitting the wooden floor at the entrance.

"You called?" a deep voice asked as a man came through the doorway looking agitated before his eyes landed on the woman sitting on top of the table. He dropped the angered look that he had entered with and stared at her with an unreadable expression.

"Who are all of you?" the woman asked once more as Dante frowned and turned to look at Esmeralda. The old gypsy shook her head at him before the woman stood shakily from the table and tried to walk away from them.

Fear was running through her mind as she tried to recall how she had gotten all of the bruises on her body, her memory came up blank. She held on to the back of a chair as she tried to remember where she came from, her mind didn't answer. Her scared expression only increased when she tried to remember who she was, she couldn't even recall her name.

Dante looked at her with concern apparent in his grey eyes as Esmeralda nodded her head at him. He moved forward just as the woman's legs collapsed beneath her. He held her to close to him as her half lidded eyes landed on him.

"Who am I?" she asked drowsily as Esmeralda smiled behind the pair.

"Lyla, your name is Lyla," the old gypsy woman lied replying to the other woman before Dante could.

"Lyla…?" the other woman asked before her head fell back and she lost consciousness once more. Esmeralda couldn't have been more overjoyed with how things were going. Dante merely held her in his arms with disapproval apparent in his eyes upon having to lie to her. He looked to Esmeralda waiting for answers, he never go any.

"She cannot remain here," the old woman told him as he tilted his head in confusion.

"I've searched through her memories before I erased them and found that she has a liking for fur," Esmeralda explained as Dante opened his mouth to protest only to be stopped once more. "She will remain with you, your traveling car is far more suited than this cold one," the old gypsy told him. He sighed when he recalled the mass of pelts in which he slept in whenever they traveled; he knew Esmeralda would use that against him one day.

Dante looked down at Lyla and nodded grimly, he held her closer as he noticed the old gypsy walk over to them. Esmeralda stopped when she noticed the act and tilted her head in intrigue.

"Remember this, she must never know her true name, Dante," the woman warned as the man before her clenched his jaw. Esmeralda could see the turmoil within him, it was written all over his features.

"Esmeralda, this is wrong, bringing a woman back from the dead…the day she finds out the truth-"

"Is the day that I slaughter you for telling her," Esmeralda told him coldly cutting him off as Dante dropped his head. He had forgotten his place, the woman before him was his leader, he shouldn't be questioning her. The gypsy looked at the man before her and smiled at the expression he was making, he was too young to understand her reasoning. She smiled when she noticed how close he was in appearance with the biker that the woman had once known...Lucifer was his name, if she remembered correctly. Dante could have been his doppelganger.

"Go, make sure she is warm, we depart in a few moments," the old gypsy informed him as he nodded and carefully shifted her in his arms before leaving. He exited from the carriage that he had just gotten her from and walked over to his own a few feet back.

He stopped briefly to check on the horses that would be pulling his carriage before another winter breeze danced around him making him realize that the woman in his hold was shivering. He frowned slightly before entering the large traveling car.

He walked over to his large bed and gently placed her down onto it before realizing that she had nothing but a silk sheet covering her exposed body. A deep shade of red settled onto his cheeks as he reached over and covered her with a large wolf pelt, he stepped back and turned away from her.

"We're leaving Paris and with it your previous life," he told the unconscious woman before him knowing she wasn't able to hear him. Guilt settled over him once he remembered what she had been put through. She had been torn away from everything she once held dear, brought back to life after death had claimed her, and had to have her memory erased in order to extract revenge on someone she had once known.

Dante couldn't understand Esmeralda's thinking, she was making the woman in front of him suffer in order to get back at a man that they were all too familiar with.

Dante merely wondered if it was all worth it.

He didn't think it was right to use her but if it was what Esmeralda wanted then he would have to approve of it nonetheless. He felt a slight pang of jealousy towards the other man when he looked at the woman on his bed, her frail body shaking despite the mass of fur that she had around her. She curled up into the pelts and grabbed one before pulling it up covering half of her face. She was too beautiful to be stuck in the darkness with that monster; she deserved a better life now, a life someone else could offer her.

Esmeralda was right about that, if only that.

"Dante, I will leave her under your charge, if she needs anything do not hesitate to ask," a voice startled him as he turned towards the wooden door of the entrance and noticed it was Esmeralda. He nodded briefly at her before she closed the door and whistling filled the air.

Seconds later he heard the snapping of whips as the carriage moved forward being pulled by the horses outside. Dante moved towards the woman once more and sat beside her on a leather chair, his expression troubled as he shook his head once more. His gloved hand caressed the side of her cheek as she scrunched up her nose before she leaned forward into his touch with a soft sigh. Her soft lips seemed to ghost over his palm as he pulled back and looked at her once more.

"Lyla does not suit you; your true name was far more fitting…Monica."

**Review!**


	2. Have You Forgotten?

**Have You Forgotten?**

**A/N: Enjoy my dears!**

Lyla walked silently on the rooftops of the carriages that carried the equipment and performers of the carnival that she traveled with. She jumped from car to car with the grace that she had been taught to show wherever she went. The horses paid little to no attention to her, they were accustomed to seeing her by now.

She hurried along when she heard the familiar rumble of thunder above her, if she didn't get to her destination soon she would find herself soaked to the bone. Esmeralda would frown upon that, Lyla merely shook her head and picked up her pace not wishing to upset the gypsy that had done so much for her.

When she reached the particular car that she had been heading towards, she dropped down carefully and knocked on the door shyly before wrapping her arms around her frame. The cold night air around her jumped at the chance to assault her bare skin, the outfit that Esmeralda had picked out for her did little to shield her from the unforgiving wind around her.

The door swung open to reveal Dante dressed in nothing but black boxers which made her glance down in embarrassment. Her mind reprimanded her, perhaps she had chosen the wrong time to drop by, for all she knew he could have disturbed his sleep.

"God, Lyla its freezing outside," Dante scolded her pulling her in quickly and slamming the door shut behind her. She kept her gaze low as he walked away from her and came back with a black blanket made out of some sort of animal pelt. He wrapped it around her shivering form before stepping back and looking at her expectantly.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you," she paused slightly and looked around, "it gets cold and lonely in my room, I just thought I could spend the night here," she confessed refusing to meet the gaze of the man in front of her.

Dante rubbed the back of his head as he stared at her with slight amusement; despite the five years that had passed she was still the same woman that he had met that fateful night when their paths had first crossed.

"Do you really need to ask?" he replied as Lyla rose gaze to his and blushed upon seeing the sheepish grin that he directed towards her. She walked hesitantly over to his large bed and sat at the edge of it looking around with slight relief.

Dante closed his eyes and heard the bells that dangled from her golden anklet jingle after her every move. He wondered why Esmeralda made her wear it, his mind answered his own question immediately. The old gypsy was extremely protective and defensive when it came to Lyla, the sounds that the anklet produced made it impossible for the woman to go anywhere without someone noticing.

"Has anyone bothered in telling you where we're heading next?" Dante asked as Lyla turned to look at him and shook her head. Dante nodded in understanding, of course they hadn't told her. Everyone was afraid of speaking or looking at her due to Esmeralda's obvious favoritism of her. One wrong look or comment about her and the person would find themselves suffering the gypsy's wrath.

"No one will talk to me," Lyla told him as Dante closed his eyes and fell back on his bed beside her stiff form. Esmeralda had certainly made it clear that the woman sitting in front of him was not to be bothered or messed with.

"We're going to Paris," Dante's voice told her as her mind ran blank for a moment. The man behind her stared at her tense form waiting for her reaction. He knew several things were going to become clear to her once her memories started to resurface, he had questioned Esmeralda about it but the gypsy had assured him nothing vital would be remembered by the woman.

"Oh, I've never been to Paris," he heard her whisper as a pang of guilt hit him upon hearing her say that. "I bet it's beautiful," she commented as he frowned and resisted the urge to confess everything he knew right then and there. He could hear the longing in the woman's voice; she wasn't allowed to go anywhere without someone to accompany her, she knew she wouldn't be allowed to roam the streets of the famed city.

Lyla merely stared down at the wooden floors beneath her in sorrow; she had heard the other performers complain about the carnival missing Paris time and time again. Rumors had reached her ears about the cathedral in Paris, the Eiffel tower, and the Opera Populair. Her heart longed to see everything in the city and yet she knew the request would be frowned upon if she so much as mentioned it to Esmeralda.

"I'll see if I can get you out to see it at night," Dante's voice broke her out of her thoughts as she turned to look at him with hopeful eyes. Lyla smiled at him gratefully, his breath caught in his throat upon looking at expression. He had realized she was beautiful the first time he had laid his eyes on her and for the first time in his life he found himself thanking Esmeralda for keeping the other men away from her.

"What would I do without you?" she asked laughing slightly as she curled up next to him. His body stiffened upon feeling her so close before he started to relax. He pulled several more pelts over her body in order to keep her warm as she sighed and rested her head on his bare chest.

He stared down at her form resting beside him as his hand ran through her curled black hair. He found it more suiting than the usual straight black strands that danced after her every time she moved. She hummed in content before she drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

Dante found himself staring down at her with adoration apparent in his eyes; he loved her ever since she had been left under his charge. His mind wondered if she was ready to face the city she had been taken from by force.

"It's been five years since you've been to Paris…will you be able to handle the truth?" he asked quietly looking down at the sleeping woman in his arms before placing a kiss on top of her head. He sighed before he too drifted off into a restless sleep.

There was no going back now.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Fleur walked cautiously through the catacombs beneath the Opera Populair watching for traps and dead ends. The Phantom had made it painfully clear by the number of deadly snares and devices scattered throughout the tunnels: he did not want to be disturbed.

The man made his way through the minefield of bear traps before finally reaching the darkened lair, the harsh notes coming from the organ reached his hears. He cringed and considered turning back when he heard the low tune that escaped from the pipes, he did not want to interrupt the Opera Ghost especially if he was in one of his unpredictable moods.

The sharply hit low notes that ended the tune abruptly, however, made the hair on the back of his neck stand upon realizing that he had blown his cover. The other man had noticed his presence; there was no getting out of the situation now.

"What?" the Phantom's harsh voice asked dangerously as Fleur gulped and stepped into the lair. He made sure to avoid stepping on the scattered sheets of notes that lay on the ground as he neared the other man.

"T-the carnival is in town, s-sir," he stuttered fumbling with his hands nervously as the Phantom stood from the organ and turned to look at him slowly. He stared down at the other man in an unconvinced manner; Fleur found himself wishing to run away before he found the Punjab lasso around his neck.

"Is that all?" the Opera ghost asked sneering through clenched teeth. Fleur jumped slightly upon hearing the other man's voice and stepped back in horror.

"I-it's the one with the gypsy that you mentioned before," Fleur informed him as the Phantom pulled back and stared at him through narrowed eyes. Fleur had to admit he was surprised to be standing still; the imposing figure of the man in front of him scared him beyond belief. The dark attire that the Opera Ghost wore only increased Fleur's fear.

"Get out of my sight, boy," the Phantom warned dismissing Fleur with a flick of his wrist. The other turned sharply and sighed in relief as he reached for his neck and found it intact, he hadn't expected to get out of the lair alive.

The Opera Ghost merely watched him leave with apparent fury in his eyes as he reached for his cloak and fedora. Upon picking the cloak up, however, he uncovered a painting he had been working on for several months.

He frowned upon seeing the image of his muse on the canvas before he took some sheets that had been resting on the organ and tossed them above the image. He couldn't bear to look at her anymore, his chest already felt constricted and a sharp pain had already made itself known near his heart. The endless drawings and paintings of her had tormented him endlessly; he couldn't get her out of his mind.

His boots echoed eerily through the tunnels as he made his way over towards his black mare that rested at the entrance, its ears perked up and twirled around when it heard its master approach. The Opera Ghost mounted the horse swiftly before snapping the reins and allowing the mare beneath him to fall into a steady gallop.

The ride proved to be excruciatingly long for the Phantom, his head was filled with questions that he had for the gypsy that he hadn't seen in years.

Once the horse neared the tents of the camp, however, he slowed the mare down and dismounted it quietly wishing to draw no attention to himself. He stuck to the shadows as he observed the performers scamper around knowing that the show was starting, his blue eyes landed on every face hoping to see one in particular.

He had been made aware of the disappearance of his muse's body. He had dismissed the thought five years ago, he hadn't been thinking clearly. After a while, however, it became clear that the old woman had something to do with it.

The pistol strapped to his waist gleamed in the moonlight; he drew his cloak around the weapon in order to conceal it as he continued to make his way towards the carriage in which he knew Esmeralda would be in.

He wouldn't have put it past the gypsy to have stolen the body of the woman he had once loved and do something to it in order to hurt him. He wondered what she could have possibly done to her body, perhaps she had fed it to the large cats that traveled with the show. The thought got his blood boiling, the old woman was capable of it and he knew it, she would stop at nothing to harm him further.

His neck cracked as he tilted his head sideways and eased his muscles before stepping out of the shadows. The performers around him seemed oblivious to the dark figure making its way towards the quarters of the old gypsy.

"Lyla, where the hell are all my clothes!" a woman screamed demandingly as the Phantom turned towards the source of the shrill noise. His ears protested at the high pitch noise before the jingling of bells drowned out the ringing in his head.

A body collided with his own as he stepped back dumbfounded at the figure that had rammed into him. His eyes took a second to adjust before they landed on the woman that rubbed her nose in pain and held several outfits in her hand.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see where I was going," she apologized tossing the mass of black curls away from her face as the Phantom's jaw dropped open in horror and shock at the sight before him. "Sir, are you ok?" she asked him upon seeing his breath stop abruptly. Her concerned brown eyes locked with his metallic blue orbs before he shook his head in denial and stepped back in fear at the woman before him.

"Sir?" she asked once more reaching out and touching his arm wanting to know if he was alright. The Phantom jumped when he felt her hand touching him, this wasn't real…it wasn't happening.

"Lyla! You little rat where are you?" the woman's voice shrieked in anger as the woman in front of the Phantom jumped and dropped her head.

"Monica?" the Opera Ghost asked finally finding his voice as the woman before him turned her head to look at him once more. He felt like his whole world was being turned upside down, she was supposed to be dead.

"You must have me confused with someone else, my name is Lyla," she explained before she started to walk away from the stranger before her. The Phantom caught her arm and spun her around to face him once more, her confused expression met with his own as they stared at each other for a brief moment.

There was no confusing the woman that held his heart in the palm of her hand, he could never forget his muse. She hadn't changed since he had last seen her, she was as beautiful and innocent as she had been before.

"Lyla!" the diva barked once more as the Phantom felt her slip out of his grasp. His heart skipped a beat as she looked at him, he could tell she was having a hard time deciding on whether she should stay or leave.

"Have you forgotten your angel?" the Phantom asked reaching out to caress her cheek as she stepped back shaking her head. Part of her wanted to remain with him; he acted as if he knew her. Her mind went blank once more as she started to turn away from the stranger before her, part of her scolded her for doing such an act.

"I'm sorry, I don't remember you," she whispered before turning sharply and running towards the dressing room of the woman that had been hollering orders at her. The Phantom watched her leave him standing there, the pain in his chest had gotten to the point where he thought death would be better.

She had just denied him, acted as if she hadn't known him. He had just stood there and watched her leave, he hadn't even tried to stop her.

He turned his head over towards the carriage of the gypsy once more before he stormed over to it; pistol in hand, his temper seething. He wanted answers; he wanted to know why she was alive and why the old woman hadn't told him that she had brought her back to life.

The door to the carriage fell in as he kicked it harshly startling the woman inside as he pointed his gun at her, his chest rose up and down in fury as he grit his teeth at her.

"You have a lot of explaining to do, woman."

**Review, or they shall never be reunited! ;D **


	3. You Deceived Me

**You Deceived Me...**

**A/N: Enjoy!**

"A better life?" the Phantom snarled towering over Esmeralda. The old woman stared up at the specter clearly unfazed by his stature before glancing at the door that had been kicked in. "That is why you took her from me? And you dare call me mad?" the man before her thundered as she continued to hear his protests.

"She deserves better, we both know that Erik," Esmeralda reminded him as the Phantom stopped pacing and turned to look at her dangerously.

"You brought her back from the dead," the Phantom hissed walking over to her once more, "did it ever cross your mind to inform me of this?" he asked once more outraged that his muse had been kept from him for five years.

"I knew you would come looking for her if I did, I had to give her time to adjust to make sure she would not remember you," Esmeralda replied calmly. Before she knew it the Phantom's gloved hand had wrapped around her neck, she gasped as he started to apply pressure.

His storming blue eyes met with her shocked green orbs as she started to cough, she had always underestimated the man before her. The pressure around her neck started to increase; she could feel the air escape from her lungs as her vision started to cloud over.

"Do not forget, I can take her life as quickly as I gave it back," the gypsy choked as the Phantom released her immediately. He stepped back with a sneer directed at the woman while she rubbed her neck and coughed trying to get some air back into her lungs.

"There is more to this than you are telling me," the Phantom commented clenching and unclenching his hand as he stared out of the window with hate written on his features.

"If you could learn to control yourself, I would be glad to show you," Esmeralda replied as the Opera Ghost turned to look at her before nodding slowly. She walked by and motioned for him to follow as she exited the carriage and headed over to the main tarp where the show was already underway.

The Phantom followed closely behind turning his head every time a person passed him, he looked for her in everyone he saw.

"She won't be here," Esmeralda informed him as he turned to look at her with displeasure. She led him backstage where the performers where racing around looking for their costumes and fixing their makeup.

"Where is Dante?" the old gypsy asked as several heads turned and called out the answer at different times.

"He's on right now, Madame," a young woman informed her walking up to the pair as she noticed the man standing beside Esmeralda. She had to crane her neck upwards in order to see him clearly, once she did a blush settled on her cheeks upon seeing the stranger's handsome face.

She dismissed the white mask on covering half of his face due to half of the men in the carnival wearing one, it wasnt odd that he too had one on.

Esmeralda nodded at her before continuing, the Phantom dismissing the woman that continued to stare at him as he followed after the gypsy as she made her way to the curtain that led towards the center ring.

The Phantom's breath hitched upon seeing his muse standing in front of it, one of her hands parted the curtain as she stared intently outside watching the show. Esmeralda turned to look at the Opera Ghost noticing he had his eyes fixed on the woman before she directed his attention elsewhere.

"You see him?" she questioned pointing to Dante as he stood in the center of the stage, whip in hand while four Bengal tigers circled around him jumping through hoops.

The Phantom had to tear his eyes away from the woman he longed to hold in order to see where the gypsy had pointed to. His eyes landed on the tiger tamer before turning to look at the gypsy once more.

"What is the point to all of this, woman?" he asked irritated before the gypsy rose her hand and snapped her fingers. A deafening roar reached the Phantom's ears as his attention was brought back to the stage.

One of the tigers swung its large paw at Dante narrowly missing his throat as he jumped back. The crowd around him gasped and whispered upon seeing this as the large cat snarled at him before swinging once more.

"There," Esmeralda pointed as the Phantom followed her finger and frowned upon seeing his muse. She had one hand over her heart as it raced rapidly, her chest rose up and down at a rapid pace as her worried eyes remained on the stage.

The gypsy snapped her fingers once more as another Bengal tiger snapped and swung at Dante, by now the tamer found himself dodging for his life, the crowd around him clapping thinking it was part of the show.

Lyla stared at the scene before her in horror, she stepped forward about to run out to help him before another performer stopped her.

"You'll stress the cats out more if you go out there, he knows what he's doing, he'll be fine," the woman told her holding her back before turning and rushing over to ready herself. Lyla stared at Dante with a frown on her lips as she stopped herself from running to his side when another tiger lunged at him.

Esmeralda gazed at the Phantom and found his eyes fixed on the woman he hadn't seen in five years before she snapped her fingers for the third time making one more tiger join the other two. By now a crowd of performers had gathered around the curtain and peeked through with concern upon finding Dante desperately trying to avoid the swings from the cats around him.

Lyla stared at him with concern noticing one of the tigers actually scratch his arm as her heart skipped a beat, she could feel the tears starting to pool over her eyes. She blinked at allowed them to fall as she gripped the curtain in fear watching the tamer jump and dive for his life.

He somehow managed to make it look like it had all been planned by back flipping and dogging gracefully with a smile on his face although he felt genuinely panicked on the inside.

"They've never acted up like that," a man commented from the crowd as several other comments were thrown about each pointing out the unusual events that were occurring.

Esmeralda snapped her fingers for the final time making the last tiger lunge at Dante with a fierce snarl making the young tamer jump away just in time.

The Phantom could have cared less about the man outside; he couldn't find it in himself to look away from his muse. The suffering expression that she was making made his heart sink and constricted his throat; he couldn't stand to watch her like that.

"The tears she shed for you once, the sleepless nights she passed with you, the worry that came whenever she didn't see you…it is all directed at him now," Esmeralda told the man beside her as the Phantom's breath halted abruptly.

"No," he replied in denial shaking his head at the old gypsy beside him. He could feel as if someone were cutting out his heart and shredding it to pieces as he started to realize that Esmeralda had spoken the truth.

Another snarl brought his attention back to his muse as she cried in desperation wanting to run out and help the tamer whose luck was starting to run out. Several other performers had to hold her back while she struggled against them.

"The love she once had for you…belongs to him now," Esmeralda continued as another one of her cries reached his ears. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw unable to bare the sight of her in distress.

"Enough!" he barked at Esmeralda making her snap her fingers as the tigers immediately calmed down and stopped their assault on Dante. The Phantom cold hear the relieved sighs that came from the performers around him before he opened his eyes and looked over to see his muse. The relief that spread through her features felt like knives being impaled into his body.

He could hear the crowd clap and roar in approval as Dante exited the stage and sighed before walking through the curtain hiding the scratches that the large cats had managed to inflict upon him.

The Phantom shook his head once more as he looked at the boy who was surrounded by the crowd of performers backstage. Dante looked over the cheering mass before him for one person in particular before he managed to distinguish the jingling from her anklet.

He turned and found Lyla making her way through the crowd; he embraced her as soon as she neared him with a nervous sigh and held her close to his chest. The Phantom frowned as he watched the woman that belonged to him once wrap her arms around the tamer with apparent relief before pulling away.

The Opera Ghost could feel his chest rise in anger as her hands caressed the side of the boy's face with adoration while the tamer leaned in with a smile on his lips and kissed her palms. The Phantom's hand shook with rage as he continued to watch the pair from afar, the gypsy beside him watching as well knowing that the man beside her had to see what had become of his muse.

"Worried about me?" Dante whispered into Lyla's ear as she frowned at him and smacked his arm lightly.

"You bastard, I was horrified," she admitted with a grimace as the man holding her shook his head before laughing lightly seeing the crowd around them lessen. The show had to go on after all, there was no time to hang around and talk to each other.

"Have I ever told you how much I think of you when I'm performing?" he asked as she smiled shyly at him unaware of the pair watching from a distance.

"You think of me?" Lyla asked faking surprise before laughing lightly and shaking her head.

"Every day, darling," Dante replied pulling her closer to him as performers raced by carrying costumes while others directed the animals through the chaos around them.

The Phantom's expression by this time was one of pure fury, his nose flared like that of a bull ready to charge an unlucky matador. A vein stuck out of his neck as he panted angrily wishing to strangle the boy before him for touching what was his.

"This is the life that she was meant to have, one without death or sorrow following her, Erik," the gypsy beside him murmured, he didn't acknowledge her. His eyes were fixed on the pair a few feet away from them.

"She belongs to me," the Phantom snarled at Esmeralda making the gypsy shake her head.

"No Erik, she belongs to him," Esmeralda replied pointing at Dante as the young tamer laughed and twirled Lyla around making her burst out laughing with joy. The Phantom watched her with longing in his eyes; she was his. Why was the woman beside him torturing him like this?

"Give her memory back," the Opera Ghost demanded as Esmeralda shook her head at him. Clearly he still hadn't understood why she had brought her back in the first place.

"Would you want her to remember everything from her past life? Would you want her to relive the death of her father, her mother, her brother…her child?" the gypsy beside him asked as the Phantom flinched at the low blow.

He had heard of Kiri's death shortly after his muse's body had gone missing, he still hadn't been able to shake off the guilt from not being able to protect the child. The only thing that appeased him was finding out that Lucy's death hadn't been quick and painless.

"You were able to bring her back from the dead, why are you not able to choose which events she remembers?" he asked dangerously as he refused to look away from the woman that he still loved dearly.

"That is not how it works, Erik," Esmeralda replied placing a hand on his arm trying to calm his raging form. He shook her off instantly, he didn't need her sympathy.

"When will it be enough, have I not suffered enough for my sins?" the Opera Ghost asked struggling to remain standing as he watched his muse in another man's arms. He could feel his heart aching immensely upon watching her look over the boy's wounds with concern that had been reserved for him only.

"You have already paid for your actions, my child," Esmeralda replied as the Phantom resisted the urge to snort at her.

"If I have paid for them, why is she not by my side?" he snapped angrily unable to calm his temper.

"She has made her life here, you cannot take her away from what she has grown to love, Erik," the old gypsy replied as the Opera Ghost grit his teeth upon watching the boy run his hand through her black hair.

"You took her from me," he growled back feeling the need to kill the boy as he continued to watch them. Esmeralda shook her head before motioning over to his muse once more. The Phantom's face paled before he felt like someone had stabbed his heart and twisted the blade in further.

He watched as wave after wave of agony assaulted him, the boy had his arms wrapped around her waist as he kissed the woman that had once been his. The Phantom felt his very soul shattering again as he watched his muse respond to the tamer shyly as her lips moved against his.

The Opera Ghost couldn't stop the tears of rage that escaped from his eyes as he snarled and turned away from the pair unable to look at his muse kissing another man. Esmeralda followed after the imposing Phantom who merely stormed out of the carnival tarp with fury evident in his expression.

"Erik, she has forgotten you, do not blame this on the boy or her-" the gypsy started before the Phantom turned on her with such speed that she stepped back in surprise.

"Enough!" he thundered at her as she stepped back once more, fear creeping into her eyes for the first time as she watched him approach her dangerously. He rammed her up against one of the carriages as she stared into his eyes; they stormed with every type of emotion she could think of. One of them, however, was more apparent that then others.

Betrayal.

"If I ever see you again, I will not hesitate to kill you," he threatened her as she stared back with wide eyes.

"What of the girl?" she asked wishing to know his plans as he actually snorted and laughed slightly.

"They are all the same, she is exactly like Christine," the Phantom replied fighting back the hurt that he felt when he remembered his muse, "thank you for curing me of my ridiculous obsession with love."

With that he released her and slipped into the shadows of the forest.

Esmeralda stared after him with slight concern; she had finally broken the infamous Phantom of the Opera. Part of her smiled at the triumph another, however, felt regret. She started to walk back to her carriage before the familiar jingling of bells reached her ears.

"Is something wrong, Esme?" Lyla asked staring at the gypsy she owed everything to. The old gypsy wondered where Dante had run off to before remembering he was probably changing out of his bloodied clothes and getting his wounds treated.

The gypsy thanked whatever god was up in the sky for sending Lyla to her at that moment, had the woman arrived sooner she would have crossed paths with the Phantom. Esmeralda didn't even want to think of what would have happened if the two of them met.

The gypsy smiled at the young woman before her as she placed her hand on the side of her face. Lyla stared back knowing something was troubling her when she noticed her smile drop slightly.

"Everything is fine, child," the old gypsy lied as the image of the betrayed expression on the Phantom's face surfaced in her mind causing guilt to surface as well. "Run along, we will be spending a week here in Paris," she commented as Lyla's expression lit up.

"Will I get to see the Opera Populair?" Lyla asked with hope filled eyes as the gypsy smiled sadly at her.

"We shall see, my dear," Esmeralda replied already knowing the answer, "we shall see."

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	4. Forgive Me

**Forgive Me**

**A/N: Enjoy!  
**

"Why can't I visit the Opera Populair?" Lyla asked with a hint of sadness in her voice. Dante turned his head to look at the woman beside him, the guilt of lying to her returning full force. She stared back with a rejected look on her face while her black curls fell out of place and framed her face.

"Esmeralda probably doesn't want to put you in harm's way," Dante answered as she sighed and rested her head on his chest. Dante ran a hand through her hair while they rested under the light of the stars and the moon. The silk blanket beneath him reminded him of the hair that belonged to the woman who rested beside him.

"I see no harm in going," Lyla replied turning as well to see the tamer who by this time had stopped caressing her hair. A look of regret passed through his eyes briefly before he replaced it with one of love. "Unless you consider hearing opera dangerous," she added sighing once more.

"It depends on who is singing it," Dante added with slight jealously when the Phantom crossed his mind. His arm instantly wrapped around Lyla and pulled her closer while she smiled at him dismissing the tone behind his previous statement.

"Are you afraid that an opera singer is going to steal me away from you?" she asked as her eyes lit up, Dante frowned at the question when he realized how fitting it really was. Lyla dropped her own smile when she noticed the man beneath her tense. She rose slightly and supported her body by placing her arms beside Dante who seemed lost in thought.

The tamer stared up at her as she tilted her head in confusion at his reaction. Had she said something she wasn't supposed to?

"Dante," she started catching his attention. He brought his eyes back to her and waited for her to continue, "You know me all too well, I would never leave you."

She watched him intently waiting for relief to spread through his features when he realized that she had spoken the truth. Instead he remained underneath her with doubt apparent in his expression. She frowned slightly before kissing the tip of his nose, something that she did when she genuinely felt sorry and wanted to apologize to him. Dante turned to look at her without fail; she smiled when she noticed his muscles relax beneath her.

Lyla pulled back, however, when a splitting pain tore through her mind. She sat up and held her head with one hand trying to figure out what was happening. Dante immediately rose as well and held her in his arms as she shook with the force of the pain that coursed through her.

She closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to lessen the pain, pictures flashed before her eyes. Her brow furrowed in confusion at the images. She had never seen them before, she saw the interior of an opera house and the vast sea of velvet seats.

"_I love you for who you truly are, nothing more and nothing less…" _her own voice echoed as she bit her bottom lip in pain. Dante merely shouted at a nearby performer to go and get Esmeralda as he held her closer trying to ease her pain.

An image of a man flashed before her eyes, she shook her head trying to clear her mind. She had never seen him before, why was this happening? A feeling of immense love and admiration settled over her as she kissed the tip of his nose, his startled face appeared before her.

Lyla grit her teeth in pain, she had never done that to anyone but Dante. Her mind wasn't making any sense. She held on to Dante's leather jacket in a desperate attempt to still her mind before the smell of roses and ink filled her senses. She could practically hear the rushing of water all around her even though she was nowhere near a source of water.

Esmeralda rushed over to the pair once she saw Lyla holding her head in agony. The old gypsy crouched in front of the pair; Dante looked up at her questioningly before she nodded back. Dante cursed and held Lyla tighter, he had dreaded this day.

Esmeralda had warned him about it, certain things would trigger Lyla's memory after a while. He hadn't expected it to happen now.

"Child, listen to me," Esmeralda whispered placing her own hand over Lyla's that rested on top of the younger woman's head. Dante stared at the old gypsy with worry as Lyla shook her head and clenched her hands painfully.

"Make it stop," she whined pitifully before another scene played before her eyes. She felt the stranger's finger on her lips as he silenced her before she had a chance to ask him a question. Lyla shut her eyes even tighter as she tried to shake the memory that kept playing in her mind.

"_Get some rest, mon amour," _the man's voice ordered as she breathed out upon hearing it. The intoxicating tone that it held made her head spin as she tried to remember who he was. Lyla wanted to know who the man was, she had a feeling he was important.

"Child, shake the demons in your mind, you are stronger than they are," Lyla registered Esmeralda's voice command. Strangely, she wanted to let the demons in, she wanted to see if they could tell her who the mysterious man from her memory was. She knew so little of her past, she clung dearly to anything that could help her reveal more of it.

Lyla could feel the pain from before receding, she almost cried out in desperation. She would deal with it again if it meant remembering who she had been before. Dante eased his hold when he felt her breathing steady, he sighed in relief once her eyes opened and looked at him.

"What did you see?" Esmeralda asked in alarm wishing to know what the woman before her had remembered. She hoped it was nothing relating to Erik, she couldn't afford to have Lyla remember him.

"Nothing, just darkness," Lyla lied; she didn't wish to alarm Esmeralda if she told her she had seen a man she didn't recognize. "Disappointing darkness," she whispered before her head dropped against Dante's chest. The tamer held her with concern when he saw her faint; it pained him to see her suffer while being unable to help her.

"We cannot afford to have her remember him," Esmeralda told Dante. He stared at her briefly before returning his gaze to the woman in his arms. "It could ruin everything we have worked for," she added as the tamer's eyes shot over to her.

"Is that the only thing that concerns you?" he snapped clearly irritated. Esmeralda's own gaze flew to him upon hearing the tone in his voice. "The fact that she was in pain during the whole ordeal does not bother you?" he asked with a sneer directed at her.

"It hurt me to watch her suffer," Esmeralda shot back unamused at the tamer's outburst. "Do not think you are the only one who cares," she added warningly. Dante didn't back down, he found himself holding Lyla closer as the gypsy woman approached him.

"What does this mean?" he asked breaking eye contact with the old woman. Esmeralda stood over him and looked down at the woman in his arms intently. Her green eyes traveled over to Dante for a brief second as she answered.

"It means she will be torn apart if she remembers him once more," the gypsy told him as Dante's own eyes shot over to her again. "She would be tormented with the fact that she would love two men, one of them being you." Esmeralda told him before she paused slightly, "The other would be her protector, her guardian, her angel."

Dante frowned clearly understanding what Esmeralda was saying. If Lyla regained her memory she would struggle with choosing between two men. Dante's lies would surely come back to haunt him, she would realize that he had kept so much from her. On the other hand the Phantom had done no wrong, she would go back to him, Dante grit his teeth upon realizing the truth behind the latter.

"She can't remember," he whispered brushing a strand of hair from her face. Esmeralda nodded back and turned to leave.

"Make her forget," she told him resting a hand on his shoulder as she stood and cradled Lyla's body carefully. "Leave no place for doubt in her mind," Esmeralda advised before leaving. Dante sighed and carried her back to his quarters. He placed her amongst all of the fur pelts that he had on his bed and seated himself on the chair beside her.

He couldn't afford to lose her to the infamous Opera Ghost, not when she already held his heart in the palm of her hand. She had him on his knees; he was willing to do anything she asked of him without a second thought. He merely hopped she realized how much of his life she held control over.

Dante felt his eyes close slowly despite his attempts to remain awake. His head rested on his shoulder as sleep took him into its cold embrace. Lyla on the other hand found herself stirring and waking in the middle of the night due to the images that wouldn't leave her.

She sat up on the bed and ran her hand through the fur beneath her before she turned to look at Dante who was still sleeping soundly on the chair. She stared at the door with a determined look in her eyes before the feeling disappeared as quickly as it came.

Lyla turned to look at Dante once more; she couldn't just get up and leave in the middle of the night to chase after a ghost from her memory. For all she cared the man could merely be a product of her imagination, she scoffed at her own thoughts. He had to be real, he had seemed tangible in her memory, she could almost feel his touch in her dreams.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to Dante as she stood up and walked over to his side carefully. The anklet jingled slightly making her take light steps to prevent it from waking him. "I will be back, I promise," she told him before placing a kiss on his lips. She pulled back and headed for the door quietly; she uttered a sigh once she was outside and noticed he hadn't stirred.

She closed the door before heading towards the horses that had been hitched at the edge of the woods that surrounded the carnival. Lyla stood in front of the Arabian mares debating on which one she should take before her eyes landed on the charcoal one at the end.

"Remember me, Pilate?" she whispered into its ear. The horse bobbed its head and pushed its head into her gently as she ran her hand over its neck. She untied the reins carefully and quietly before walking away with the horse behind her.

When she knew she was clearly out of earshot she mounted the mare carefully and paused not really knowing where she was going to go. She looked around seeing nothing but a sea of trees before the horse beneath her started to walk down a trail.

She didn't make a move to stop it; she could somehow recall traveling down the same path at one point in her life. She closed her eyes in anger upon being unable to remember anything else while the horse picked up its speed and settled into a gallop.

After an hour of traveling and seeing nothing but wood she considered heading back, her hands gripped the leather reins ready to pull them and guide the horse away. A snort from another animal, however, brought her attention back to the path. She slowed her own horse and dismounted when she saw the other mare hitched outside of a tunnel.

The mere size of the horse made her mouth drop when she compared it to the one she had been riding. She neared it carefully not wishing to startle it and fastened the reins to her own horse beside it before stepping away quietly. She wondered who the monstrous steed belonged to. Lyla found herself entering the tunnel without another thought after making sure that her own horse was properly secured to the wooden post.

Lyla's hand traced the cold stone wall beside her as the feeling that she had done it before settled over her. She found herself walking further into the series of twisted tunnels before a light in the distance relieved her mind. Her anklet jingled loudly, the sound echoed off the walls around her, she didn't care. Something had brought her here and she wanted to know what it was.

The moment she stepped into the light she was assaulted with the sight of an intricate lair, she had never seen anything like it. Lyla's mouth dropped open when her eyes landed on an immense organ on the far side of the stone wall before she scanned the rest of the area.

The same scent from before assaulted her senses, roses and fresh ink, her hand ghosted over several sheets of music as she walked around unaware of the figure watching her intently. Lyla's attention was soon caught by a porcelain mask resting on a table; she neared it curiously and picked it up to examine it better.

She couldn't remember why the prop in her hand was so meaningful to her. A deep and rumbling voice from behind her, however, caused her to drop the mask back onto the table in horror.

"What do you think you are doing?" the voice asked as she gulped and turned to look at the source. She was greeted with the same man she had run into at the carnival. Her brow furrowed in confusion, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had known him even before their paths had crossed at the carnival.

"I-I'm sorry, monsieur," she apologized looking up at him clearly startled. The Phantom glared down at her despite having his mind scold him for the action. What was she doing in his lair, hadn't he made it clear to Esmeralda?

He did not wish to see her again.

"Get out," he ordered dangerously as her eyes darted at the tunnel she had come in from. She was about to run for it in fear before a strange feeling of calmness settled over her. Lyla closed her eyes trying to find where the sudden change had come from.

"I can't," she replied quietly, her body shifted making her anklet jingle once more. The Phantom's heart skipped a beat when she heard her. She didn't want to leave. His mind instantly reminded him that she had betrayed him; no matter what she did she couldn't stay with him.

"I will not repeat myself, get out," he snarled at her taking her arm into his gloved hand. She flinched at the rough grip he had before the same splitting pain from before returned. Lyla whimpered in pain making the Phantom release her immediately fearing that he had been the cause of it.

His touch felt so familiar to her, it had never been as rough thought. The Phantom stared at her for what seemed ages, he moved forward out of instinct when her legs gave out beneath her. He caught her just before she hit the ground and held her to him as she cried out at the pain.

Despite the hate that he wanted to feel towards her he found himself taking her into his arms once more. The feeling felt so familiar to him that he instantly started to caress her black hair like he had done so many times before. Her betrayal forgotten in an instant he tried to comfort her as she held on to his vest in pain.

Lyla could see flashes of the man who held her, nothing more. She couldn't hear what he was saying or what she felt towards him. She tried desperately to figure out who he was. The brief images of him disappeared as soon as they came, her mind started to ease once more but not before she remembered something.

"Phantom?" she asked out loud realizing that it had been the name that she had called him time and time again. The Opera Ghost instantly looked at her in confusion; she wasn't supposed to remember anything. She had remembered his name, she had remembered…

"Oui, mademoiselle?" he whispered to her, suddenly hopeful. He instantly reprimanded himself when he recalled that she wasn't his anymore. She belonged to that _boy; _there was nothing he could do to change it.

Before she could answer him she fainted for the second time that night due to the flashbacks draining every ounce of energy from her. The Phantom merely took her into his arms like had done so many times before and walked over to the swan room.

He set her down onto the bed and pulled back, he looked at her, his inspiration suddenly returning. The Phantom leaned over and caressed one of her cheeks as she turned away from him and hugged one of the pillows to her chest. He pulled back with a smile on his face; she hadn't changed over the years.

Having her back seemed surreal to him, he hadn't expected to see her again. He turned away from her and walked over to his organ, the notes and melodies coming back to him upon having his muse back where she belonged: with him.

As his hands rested above the keys, however, he knew she couldn't stay with him. No matter how much he wished for her to remain with him she would want to go back to the boy and the gypsy. Or they would come looking for her, it didn't matter to him.

The Phantom couldn't help but hope that she regained her memory. He stopped himself as soon as the thought crossed his mind; he scolded himself for being so selfish. She couldn't remember her past; he wouldn't be the reason for making her suffer through it all over again. His mind made a note to keep everything he knew to himself. The Phantom couldn't bring himself to tell her and watch the light from her eyes fade like it had done when Kiri died. As much as he loved her, he still did no matter how many times he tried to deny it; he would not hurt her again.

He would rather stand aside and let the boy take her from him if it ensured her happiness.

He turned towards the swan room before a small frown found its way onto his lips. He shook his head as he played the first low note and spoke.

"You are no longer mine."

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	5. I Didn't Choose This

**I Didn't Choose This**

**A/N: How long has it been? Too long D: I love the guys that reviewed, you're the only ones who keep me me going and make me want to write more :DDDD Enjoy!**

"Where we close before?" Lyla asked looking at the Phantom who remained seated at the organ. His head remained low as he grit his teeth trying to ignore her question. He resisted the urge to snort…had they been close? They had been more than _close. _

"It depends on how you look at it, mademoiselle," he replied in a controlled voice. Lyla's brow furrowed as she tried to recall her memories with the man in front of her. For some reason she didn't feel fear towards him, even with his white mask on.

"This is frustrating," she sighed clearly irritated before she dropped her head into her hands. The Phantom turned to look at her, if she thought it was frustrating for her he couldn't imagine her in his place. Every inch of his body screamed for the woman sitting a few feet away from him, he bit his bottom lip and turned away from her once more in a desperate attempt to control himself.

"Perhaps it is best to forget, the past can be quite unpleasant," he commented making Lyla pick her head up and look at him once more.

"I don't care, I just want to know who I was before, who you were to me," she added sighing in dismay. The Phantom turned to look at her, this time her eyes met his own. Lyla tilted her head, the sorrow in his eyes made her heart ache. She had to know what he had been to her before, why she felt safe whenever she was around him.

The Phantom rose from the bench at the organ and made up his mind, the fact that she had wandered back to him couldn't be pure coincidence. He motioned for her to follow; Lyla rose from her seat without hesitation and walked behind him curiously.

"Perhaps this will help you," the Phantom informed her leading her through the various tunnels beneath the opera house. Lyla followed after him, a brief scene flashed before her eyes as the smell of wet dirt and rushing of water stirred her memory.

She found herself stepping closer to the masked man who led the way, her hand wrapped around his arm without her noticing when a small mouse scurried in front of her.

The Phantom immediately tensed upon feeling her so close, he had to reel himself in from turning to face her and claiming her lips with his own. He longed to feel her body pressed up against his, to have her accept him like she had already done so before.

Lyla remained by his side as he walked through the halls of the Opera Populair battling with himself over control; she turned her head to look at the amazing interior of the main stage. She could tell he hadn't brought her up to see it when he continued and led her outside, the cold winter air hitting her straight on.

The Phantom turned and shrugged off his cloak ready to put it around her shoulders before she stepped away from him in awe. Lyla's hand covered her mouth as she neared the abandoned motorcycle that remained covered with snow a few feet away.

Her gloved hand brushed over the seat with care, her eyes closing as she breathed in slowly. The rumbling of the bike surfaced in her memory; clearly it had also been part of her past.

The Phantom rested the cloak he had taken off on his forearm as he continued to watch her circle the bike slowly. Lyla's hands rested on the handles before she let them go as if they were on fire.

Images of a group of men flashed through her mind, a grinning skull with horns reappeared in her mind. She assumed it had been the logo of the gang of bikers she had just seen.

"This was mine?" she asked running her hand over the black tank of the motorcycle. The Phantom nodded back, he wished that she would remember already. She would certainly save him a lot of pain if she would just recall who she had been before.

"You were never far from it," he informed her as she nodded back. Her anklet jingled when she moved around it once more and sat down on the cold leather seat. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding before she allowed her hands to grip the handles once more.

She inhaled sharply when more memories stirred, names echoed through her mind. Lucifer, Gabriel, Judas, Voodoo, Joker…the last two were followed by a particular pain. She pondered on why she would feel anything towards a gang of bikers before another name came up.

Kirimi.

Lyla forced back the tears that pooled at her eyes, she growled in frustration. She felt like she should be mourning, she didn't even know why…

"Why did you keep it?" she asked the Phantom as the masked man stepped back slightly unprepared for the question. He hadn't even been able to explain it to himself, a part of him wanted to keep it as a reminder of the woman he had loved. Of course he couldn't tell her that, not when she was still trying to piece everything together.

"I do not know, mademoiselle," he lied as she looked at him clearly unconvinced with his answer. He turned away from her slightly and looked around. Despite the cover of the night he felt rather exposed whenever he was outside of the Opera Populair.

"Does it still run?" she asked looking at the bike, for some unexplained reason she longed to ride it. She didn't even think herself capable of turning it on much less driving it. Lyla scolded herself feeling rage rise up upon being unable to recall why it meant so much to her.

"Of course it does," the opera ghost replied insulted that she would think so little of his capability of looking after her bike. The Phantom had made sure Fleur took it out for test drives every so often just to make sure it still ran smoothly, he wouldn't let his muse down.

His attention was brought back to her when he heard her sneeze lightly, his head snapped over to look at her shivering form. Lyla stared back with and embarrassed look before he walked over to her and wrapped an arm around her.

"Come, we must return, I woulld not want you to get sick," he told her, she found herself smiling at the tone he had used. He had almost sounded concerned about her. Lyla found herself huddling closer to him for warmth as they stepped back into the Opera Populair.

"I see you wasted no time in ensnaring her," a voice commented with disgust from the stage. Lyla stared at Dante blankly before noticing that Esmeralda was there as well. What the hell was going on?

She felt the Phantom's hold on her tighten protectively, somehow she didn't mind. Lyla merely relaxed against his powerful frame knowing no harm would come to her as long as she was in his hold.

"And you wasted no time in retrieving her, boy," the Phantom snarled looking at the young tamer before his eyes landed on the old gypsy beside him. He immediately let go of Lyla out of fear, he knew Esmeralda was capable of hurting the woman in his grasp if something didn't go according to plan.

"We've come to take you back, child," the gypsy informed Lyla as she shook her head in denial. She couldn't explain it but she didn't want to go back, not yet at least. She had been so close to figuring out who she had been, if she went back now she would probably never know.

"No," Lyla replied firmly stepping back while standing beside the Phantom. The opera ghost turned to look at her in disbelief; she actually wanted to stay with him?

"I will not repeat myself, child," Esmeralda warned her, her eyes narrowing warningly. Dante and the Phantom both turned to look at the old gypsy in concern, they both knew what she was capable of and they didn't want to test her.

"Esmeralda," Dante begged turning to look at her pleadingly. The last thing he wanted was to see Lyla in any sort of pain. The gypsy turned and gave him a pointed look; she was not to be questioned at the moment.

"You have to go with her," the Phantom ordered looking at Lyla who shook her head at him. It pained him to have denied her but if it meant saving her from what the gypsy could do then he wouldn't hesitate to say no.

"I don't want to, I was so close," she cried unable to hold back the tears that rolled down her cheeks. The last thing she wanted was to leave the opera ghost; she would stay even if it meant defying the woman she owed her life to.

"Enough!" Esmeralda thundered snapping her fingers. Lyla instantly went down her knees screaming at the pain that coursed through her body. The Phantom immediately took her into his arms once more turning to look at the old woman with a murderous look in his eyes. He would make her pay for torturing his muse like this; no one laid a finger on her and got away with it.

"Esmeralda, enough!" Dante shouted at her panicked upon seeing Lyla in pain. Her screams tore at his very soul; she was killing him without even knowing it. He couldn't stand to see her suffer because of something so meaningless.

"You are killing her, woman!" the Phantom yelled accusingly as Lyla continued to squirm in his hold, she held on to his arms for some sort of comfort.

An argument soon ensued with the three of them shouting at each other, their voices overlapping over one another. Esmeralda didn't decrease the pain that Lyla was feeling; on the contrary, she seemed to increase it.

"Lyla, this will stop when you agree to leave this place," the old gypsy warned her as the other woman shook her head defiantly despite the pain that she was in.

"Her name isn't Lyla, stop this already, Esmeralda," Dante warned her as he continued to watch Lyla suffer because of something she had no control over.

"Do not mention her name," Esmeralda snapped turning to look at Dante in rage. The Phantom rose his brow at the sudden development when it suddenly hit him. He turned to look at the woman in his arms shaking his head at his own stupidity.

"Come back to me, Monica," he whispered in her ear. Esmeralda turned to look at him with fury upon hearing what he had just said before the woman in his hold went limp, clearly unconscious. The trio froze on the stage when she started to stir; her eyes opened and looked around in confusion before they settled on the Phantom.

"Erik?" she asked completely horrified shaking her head. The Phantom nodded back elated at the fact that she had just remembered his name. She pushed him away much to his surprise and stood shakily.

"She remembers everything now," Esmeralda whispered in slight fear at the reaction she was going to get from the young biker in front of her.

Dante stared at her with hope in his eyes; he prayed that she would forgive him for lying to her for so long.

"I'm supposed to be dead," Monica whispered looking at the pair of men who stood before her and at the old gypsy who remained in the middle. The looks that they were giving her were starting to slowly unnerve her; it was as if they were asking her to choose between them.

Her hand rose up to the side of her head when she felt everything rushing back, from the death of her men and Kiri to her own demise a few years ago. Why was she still here?

"I'm supposed to be dead!" she cried looking at Esmeralda accusingly, "why couldn't you leave me alone?" she yelled in frustration backing away from them. The old gypsy shook her head; her worst fear had come true. Monica had reacted badly to hearing that she had been brought back; she clearly hadn't wanted it so.

The Phantom took a step towards her with a look of confusion on his own face; he reached for her before she backed away from him with pain in her eyes.

"Don't touch me!" she snapped slapping his hand away before more tears came and cascaded down her cheeks. "I wanted to stay dead, I was happy for once…you couldn't live with that could you?" she screamed at the woman who had been standing a few feet away from her.

Monica choked back another sob before she thought of everything she had been through. She had a chance of being reunited with her family once more, her father and mother, her brother…Kiri. But that had all been taken from her the moment she was brought back, she would never see them again.

"I didn't ask for this," Monica continued taking another step away from the trio before her. Dante stepped forward as well making her close her eyes with regret. How could she have fallen in love with someone else? Did they really expect her to choose between two entirely different men?

The Phantom merely remained frozen in his spot; he knew this was going to end badly the moment he had found out she hadn't been allowed to truly die. Her chances of seeing her family had been taken from her without her consent, surely something like that would have upset her greatly.

Monica turned away from them unable to remain in the same place as them; she needed to get away from everything and everyone.

"Where are you going, child?" Esmeralda called after her as Monica turned to look at her slightly. The frown on her lips sent a searing pain through the Phantom when he realized it was directed at him and the other two who remained behind him.

They had made a mistake when they had decided to keep everything from her, now they were paying for it.

"I'm going home; I can't stand to look at any of you."

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	6. Till I Hear You Sing

**Till I Hear You Sing**

**A/N: I know it took forever for an update but I haven't been inspired as of late. I felt like I owed all of my reviewers a chapter so here it is! I expect my writing to pick up once I warm up to this story again. Enjoy! **

It had been a week since she had seen either of them men that had betrayed her. She was grateful that neither of them had followed or made an attempt to contact her. It gave her some time to fully ponder and accept what had happened.

She wasn't dead.

She hadn't been allowed to die.

"Why?" she whispered to herself, rising from her bed for the first time in seven days to look at herself in the mirror. She had only gotten up to shower, change clothes, and lay back down. The moment her eyes met those of her reflection she realized why she didn't want to see herself.

There were dark circles underneath her eyes giving her the appearance of a corpse. It upset her to the point of her looking away for a brief moment. When her eyes returned to examine her face she realized how her cheeks looked sunken in making her cheekbones stand out more than usual.

How long ago had it been since she had eaten?

A week, two weeks?

She couldn't remember.

Her eyelids closed for a few seconds when she felt a sharp pain near the back of her neck. One of her bony hands reached back to massage the area as she turned to lay back down on her bed.

When her small body finally found a comfortable position on top of the comforter she allowed herself to cry silently. She had never asked for this, she didn't even know why she had been kept alive.

Everything she had loved had been taken from her. Kiri, Joker, and the rest of her men were all dead. It had all been her fault, if she hadn't been so infatuated with the Phantom she would have realized what was going on around her and stopped it before it escalated to the point of an all-out war breaking out between the gangs.

But she hadn't done anything.

She had been selfish.

'_Your selfishness killed several people, even your own child,' _her mind chuckled, tormenting her further. She couldn't find peace no matter what she did. Her own guilty conscience didn't allow her any.

Her shaking hands held her head in an attempt to ease the pain as her body curled into a small ball. She couldn't take all of the guilt, she just couldn't.

Her sobbing became louder as images of Kiri's dying expression crossed through her mind. She saw Joker being shot several times before he fell to the ground, defending her to his death.

She was going to go mad.

If this continued any longer she would lose all of her sanity.

The images, screams, and cries had to stop.

Why didn't they ever stop?

The nightmares she had prevented her from sleeping, she had grown terrified of the power of her own mind. It remembered and showed her things that she had prayed to never relive again.

"Stop," she whispered hoarsely, her throat raw from all of the screaming that she had done the previous nights. The nightmares were so vivid that when she managed to shake them and wake she was convinced that they were real. She couldn't stop the screams that left her lips whenever she saw her men being shot in front of her or Kiri's clouded eyes as she died in her arms.

Her whole body was shaking by then, despite the warmth of the room that she was in.

The only thing that managed to calm her to some extent was the roaring wind outside from the snow storm that had started in the afternoon. She could see white flakes hitting her window and melting while the rest swirled with wild and unpredictable motions.

'_You could just go out there and freeze to death, put an end to your suffering,' _her mind suggested. The more she looked at the grey sky from her position on the bed the more the thought appealed to her.

Her pale hand fell over the melted wax from her candles over the nightstand as she sat up on the bed and faced the window. She had a blank expression on her face, her eyes dead and void of life.

Without thinking she moved towards her bathroom once more, her steps slow and unbalanced. Twice she had to use the wall and furniture as support in order to stop herself from falling over and collapsing onto the ground.

She flicked on the light switch and gripped the edge of the sink, her knuckles turning white. Lips pursing, she raised her eyes to look at her reflection once more. No words could have described how much she hated herself then and there.

'_Murderer,' _her mind hissed. She grit her teeth before slowly nodding in agreement.

Murderer?

The word wasn't even enough for her, she deserved worse. She had brought about the death of a small child, a child she had promised to protect at all costs. Instead of giving Kiri everything her little heart desired she had put her in harm's way.

'_Whore!' _the voice inside of her head barked. All she could do was bite her bottom lip and cry. She couldn't deny that she was a whore. What kind of woman fell in love with two men at once? Her nails dug into the marble sending a sharp pain up her arms. She could barely hold herself up anymore; she didn't even know how she had gotten the energy to walk to the bathroom.

'_Faliure!" _

The word echoed in her head eerily for several minutes.

She had failed to lead her men out of harm's way.

Failed to protect her own family.

Failed to admit that she had fallen in love.

Failed at everything life had thrown at her.

Upon realizing that she had been useless since the beginning, her hand balled into a fist and crashed against the large mirror that held her image. In an instant silver shards fell all around her and cut her skin. Crimson droplets escaped from her fingertips and cheek.

Her weary eyes focused in on a shard that had fallen beside her hand for a few seconds. She picked it up weakly and stared at her broken reflection with a sneer.

Faint knocking reached her ears as she raised the shard up to her face for a better view. She ignored it; she didn't want to answer the door. It was probably just her imagination playing tricks with her. She had gone several days without eating or sleeping, she would have begun to hallucinate things by now.

'_Speed the process up, don't be a little bitch,' _her mind growled, urging her to place the shard over the delicate skin of her wrist. Monica's breath halted for a few moments, was she ready for this?

Was she doing the right thing?

"I'll damn myself," she whispered, raising the shard away from her skin briefly.

'_Hell is better than having to live forever,' _her mind chuckled eerily, moments before the shard found its way back to her skin. Tears fell freely from Monica's eyes as she slid the sharp edge harshly over her wrist.

She cried out when it pierced her skin, blood flowing freely from the wound.

She struggled to sever her other wrist, the one that had been cut losing feeling when she tried to hold the shard in her hand. After agonizing moments she managed to slit her other wrist and slide down onto the floor.

Blood.

There was so much blood.

The crimson liquid surrounded her; it seemed to be the only thing she could see. Her eyelids grew heavy as the smell of iron filled the air. Just a few more seconds and she would never have to wake up to her hellish life ever again.

A sad smile stretched across her lips as her tear-filled eyes looked down at her bleeding wrists.

It was over.

It was finally over.

"What have you done?" a voice snarled, bringing her back into reality. Her half lidded eyes turned to look at the figure in the doorway briefly. She could barely make out the white from the mask on the right side of his face.

"Erik?" her weak voice questioned, another small smile gracing her lips. She was happy to see him before she died. So she hadn't imagined the knocking at her door, it had been the Opera Ghost all along. It amazed her that he had left the Opera Populair just to see her, it wasn't like him to expose himself even if it was dark outside.

"You foolish woman, what have you done?" he asked once more, moving forward quickly. Monica could sense the panic and fear in his voice as he crouched beside her. Concern filled his eyes when he saw the puddle of blood next to her slit wrists.

His shaking hands hovered over them, afraid of touching her and harming her further. Fear ran through him once more just like the fear he had felt the night he had lost her. He had held her cold body for hours, hoping that she would come back to him. He wouldn't go through that again, he refused to.

"I will not lose my muse again," he told her, reaching above her and searching through her cabinets. She had to have some sort of medical supplies, all he needed was gauze, a needle, thread, and disinfectant.

Monica watched him tear through her bathroom; every move he made was as graceful and calculated as she remembered. It was getting harder for her to stay awake; she wanted to stay with him for as long as she possibly could. She had a feeling that her time was coming to an end.

"I'm sorry, _mon ange,_" she cried, wanting to reach out and comfort his horrified form. She could tell by his posture and movements that he was desperate and panicked. She would have been too if she found him in her state. Her arms refused to obey her commands; she had lost all feeling due to the cuts on her wrists.

She wasn't even sure she had made the right decision.

Perhaps she could have had a life with her angel of music.

Perhaps he would have been able to ease all of the painful memories that haunted her with his music.

She would never know.

Her choice had been made.

"Enough," he snapped at her, he didn't want to hear any excuses, apologies, or goodbyes. He wasn't going to let her die a second time; he couldn't live with himself if he did. If she closed her eyes and never woke again he would most likely join her to ease his aching heart.

"Stop, just let me go, Erik," she begged. She winced when he applied some gauze over her wounds in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Her heart broke when she saw his blue eyes look at her, pleading with her, urging her to hold on.

"Five years I have waited," the Phantom told her, holding his gloved hand to her slit wrists, "five years living without my muse, five years without your touch, voice, or presence."

Monica could feel her eyes well up with tears again, she couldn't take it anymore. It pained her to know that she was the cause of all of his woe. She wanted to relive him of her presence, to give him the chance to find someone better than her, someone worthy of his love.

"I don't deserve you, Erik, I never did," she replied, her voice barely a whisper. Her eyes closed and her arms went limp. The Phantom panicked and moved forward to feel her pulse.

It was there.

Faint but still there.

He still had time to save her. Without hesitating he picked her up off the bathroom floor and carried her over to her bed. Once there he started to clean the wounds and stitch them up in an attempt to stop the heavy blood flow. Much to his relief she hadn't severed any of her veins, had that been the case she would have died within seconds.

Working around the constant blood he managed to clean and stitch up the wound moments before he carefully started to wrap the bandages around her wrists. He had gotten to her just in time, it was a miracle that he had managed to save her.

He peeled off his bloody gloves and set them down on her nightstand.

What would have happened if he hadn't shown up when he did?

She would be lying in a puddle of her own blood, dead.

His eyes stared at the white bandages wrapped around her wrists with grief. This was all his fault, he had allowed her into his life and in doing so he had left her vulnerable to Esmeralda. The gypsy had brought the woman he loved back from the dead but it had been without her consent.

He realized now the severity of that decision.

She had tried to kill herself.

She had actually tried.

"What have I done to you, _mon amour_?" he whispered, caressing her cheek gently. What distressed him was the fact that she shied away from his touch, her whole body turned away from him on the bed. She had been the one to seek his touch whenever she was sleeping, she always drew near to him for warmth and now she rejected him.

A frown settled on his lips as he sighed and pulled his hand back.

Maybe he had made a mistake; maybe she loved the tamer more than him.

She had spent the last five years with him after all.

All he could do was sit by her side and wait until she woke. If she wanted him gone he would disappear from her life, all she had to do was say the word. No matter how painful it might be to never see her again, if that was what she wanted then he would place her happiness above his own and oblige her request.

He just needed to make sure that she was alright, that she wouldn't attempt to take her life again.

It didn't matter if she still loved him or not, all he wanted was to see her smiling again, dancing, laughing, and above all singing.

Then and only then would he step out of her life and allow her to leave with the lion tamer.

All he wanted was to hear her voice.

To hear her sing once more.

**Review my dears! **


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